Saturday, October 06, 2012

Letter to Solomon

By Camincha
We spoke last night on the phone.

And this morning I woke up with your voice in my ear in my head, in my heart, in my tongue. Remembering all the years that have gone by and we are still friends!

We were young kids when we met. Looking forward to everything. And we made it, working very hard. You dug ditches, scrubbed floors in greasy spoons. You wanted to be a commercial pilot. And when discouraged partied hard. That was when you lived in Miami. And one day you asked yourself, is this what I want to wake up to, a hung over, a girl I don't know? And you straightened up your 1if'e, for the moment. You got your WINGS.

I rented a tiny room in a house with many roommates to save on rent. Lived on bananas, nuts, coffee, beans & rice till I earned my MA. Soon after desk-top-published my chap books with the help of ‘couple  of friends really savvy about computers which I was just learning.

You married, a woman from a good family, you said. Lila tall, attractive. We liked each other, and I wished you both the best. But I saw what you hadn't told me, you didn't get along.  You got a divorce. Ugly, very ugly. There was violence, on both sides. And because of the hours you flew, you were staying up nights and sleeping days. “And its mlerda because nobody is up all night and sleeps all day.” You felt alone, isolated. You took pills. You took them to keep awake, to make you sleep. And realized the dangers were enormous, if they tested you it would be fatal, undo your whole life in one moment. You cleaned up your act, this time for good.

Going on with our conversation you said, you know, we really achieved our dreams! This morning remembering all the years that have gone by and all we have been through, I also remembered the price we paid. Do you?

So I say, Solomon, do you remember? Solomon, the price we paid? Beware.


Camincha is a pen name for a California-based writer. 
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